Cherishing the Fallen
by LumberjackJack
Summary: The mission at Bekenstein was a success, but Shepard understands that the master thief needs more than a good heist to clear her head before hitting the Omega-4 Relay. Likewise, Kasumi recognizes the difference between the commander and the person the galaxy refuses to let him be. A reconstruction of Kasumi Goto's narrative post-loyalty mission and her presence on the Normandy.
1. A Toast to an Epic

A Toast to an Epic

The heist had gone... adequately.

Commander Shepard of the SR-2 Normandy and Kasumi Goto, master thief infamous throughout the galaxy, escaped with the item of interest, produced the M-12 Locust for the crew, and even obtained knowledge on long-lost artifacts such as Lady Liberty's Head. And yet, Operative Miranda Lawson observed the recent addition to the team to be even more distant and apart from the crew than before.

" _The heist was successful, Keiji Okuda's graybox was recovered and destroyed_." That was fact. The Commander, although a bit soft and controlled by emotions more often than Lawson preferred, made the right call and encouraged Kasumi to destroy the greybox. Although the Alliance was not an ally of Cerberus, and if the Commander's report on Keiji Okuda's own last will and testament were true, the personal desires of recorded memories, as detailed and immersive they were, were not nearly as important as crucial information that could ruin the Alliance's diplomatic status with the Council as a sovereign supranational government.

" _Donovan Hock was killed in the destruction of his gunship_." Despite the mission ultimately being a success, the desired result from a success was questionable. Kasumi Goto was proving to be tougher to read than initially anticipated, and it bothered Miranda. Cerberus's hidden cameras can only find so much into her belongings to illustrate a clearer psychological profile. There's no doubt the thief knew about the surveillance network and set up her belongings to combat against this without overtly shutting it off, but rather than read books or write poetry whenever not on missions like before the mission on Bekenstein, she was sitting on the couch. Closed up, unsocial... lost. That part was a problem and a detriment to the team.

 _"Kasumi's loyalty is still in question._ "

* * *

 _"_ Operative Lawson would like to see you, Commander," Kelly Chambers told the Commander as he appeared from the tech lab.

"Thanks, Kelly." He turned to take the elevator to Deck 3.

The elevator in the new Normandy always felt like a disconnected realm of existence to Shepard, but it gave him the opportunity to review the progress made before his meeting with Miranda. He had headed to Omega to recruit the bounty hunter Zaeed Massani, the scientist Mordin Solus, and the renegade Garrus Vakarian. Before grabbing the warlord and the convict, he recruited the thief Kasumi Goto and reinstated his spectre status from Councilor Udina and the Council (more out of symbolic respect rather than official support, but it did open the special wares once more and kept him in good relations with the politicians despite being with a Cerberus stealth warship), but before moving onto the convict and warlord, he wanted to help with Kasumi's heist while they were in the cluster.

She had proven herself to be a capable squadmate against Eclipse mercenaries, heavy mechs, and a modified gunship. She was able to display an outstanding level of tech knowledge to infiltrate an "impenetrable" vault and remarkable creativity to splice a voice sample quickly for Hock and temporarily pose as Chief Roe to the security tea-

\- and the doors opened.

Commander Shepard made a right to head towards Lawson's office. He first smelt the improved food Mess Sergeant Gardner had brewed up, but he also immediately noticed the holographic display to Port Observation a neon red. It stopped him in his tracks for a moment, but he had a task to do. Officer first, concern second.

When he entered the Executive Officer's Office, Crewman Jenny Goldstein was the first to break the silence. "Why does the Commander wear that ragged clothing?"

"I'm sure it's his anti-Cerberus stance," Thomas Hawthorne responded just before finishing the rest of his fresh calamari.

"I dunno, seems a bit of a stretch to simply denounce the group. They look uncomfortable."

"Hmm..." mouth full of seafood, Hawthorne turned to Gardner, who was detailing the recently-used pot. "Hey, Gardner, wasn't the commander raised on a farm planet?"

"Mindoir!" Gardner shouted from the open kitchen. Rooms were sound-sealed, so as soon as the doors closed, it was open season for gossip, even on a Cerberus vessel. "I bet he just feels most at home in those rags. I say good on him for cherishing his- ah, damn stain- roots!" He rinsed the bottom rim of the pot with a metal scrub at an intense rate.

Goldstein stirred the food in her bowl a few seconds, finding the best way to speak the next question without causing too much of an awkward scene. "I'd figure he'd want to forget his time in the Attican Traverse."

Hawthorne picked up on what she was implying. "You've seen how nice of a guy he is," he started as he scooped together the remains of sauce into his spoon. "I bet it reminds him of the peaceful times rather than the raid."

"Ah!" Gardner exclaimed at his victory over the stain. "He is quite the role model. I wouldn't doubt that to be true if it were."

The curious crewman stared at the food balancing in her spoon as her comrade finished up his own. "It's not that simple to forget a big moment in your life."

* * *

Miranda had looked up from her terminal as Shepard walked in. She was finishing up another report on Mordin's progress on seeker swarm protection to the Illusive Man as the door shut behind the commander. " _Slow and steady, but progress nonetheless_."

"You needed to see me?" Shepard opened up.

"Yes. Thank you for coming by." Miranda finished and sent the report before standing in her new operative black and gold armor. She had tossed the visor aside for now, but the getup was far better than her previous jumpsuit and thighhigh boots. "I have a request to ask of you concerning Squadmate Kasumi Goto."

"Is everything alright with her?"

"That's just the problem; I'm not sure," Miranda admitted. She had rested a hand on her hip and looked down. "Your mission on Bekenstein was a success, and new Locusts have been manufactured successfully for the crew, but Kasumi is far less social than before, even for her. I fear destroying the greybox may have questioned her dedication to the fight against the Collectors."

Shepard thought of the concern, crossing his arms across his chest and thought back to the locked Port Observation. Kasumi was taking it harder than he had thought she would have, by the sounds of it. She sounded sad but understanding at the time of the mission to destroy the greybox's content, but she may have disguised her true feelings. "Was destroying the greybox the wrong choice?"

Miranda was quick to respond: "Absolutely not. Okuda was clear that the content was harmful enough to erase their memories together for. Even giving Cerberus the information before destroying it would have been a risk." She had crossed her own arms as she continued. "Kasumi likely would have stolen back the greybox before we could destroy it, considering how much this is affecting her now, and possibly betray the crew and abandon us."

"You really think she would leave in that case?"

"As I said, 'possibly.' She does have the skill and motivation to steal it back if we did what I initially wanted to do with the greybox, but your choice was ultimately the correct one. No question. But now she may seem more distracted than before."

Shepard scratched his head as he decided what to do: "I'll see if I can talk to her."

Miranda uncrossed her arms and proceeded to sit back down, ready to start an update to Kasumi's dossier. "Thank you, Shepard. You're more of a people-person than I. See if you can at least get her to be as social as prior to the mission."

He turned and left the office. The sound of compressed air moving the parts to the door concluded behind him as he made his way directly to the port side of the ship. The crewmen were cleaning up the table and oddly staying quiet. The concern Miranda had about an unstable squadmate started becoming clearer, at least at first, if these chatty crewmembers were silent both to and from the offices. It's possible that the denied access to the bar and entertainment center was the real reason most crewmembers were being affected, but it only proved Miranda's point in other ways. Denying access to a part of the ship without permission is a red flag.

But when he looked to the Port Observation door, the light was back to green. Temporary bug? Change of clothes and she wanted privacy real quick? Either way, Shepard wanted to know, and proceeded to the room.

Same as before. Kausmi sat on the couch with her legs cuddled to her chest as she hugged them tightly and looked up as he entered the room. She _looked_ normal, but the shine in her eyes were slightly brighter than usual.

"Hey! Got a minute?" she said. She sure sounded positive. Shepard decided to play it cool and not approach this as a military problem. It needed a personal touch.

"Always have time for my crew," he responded.

He expected to hear her spread gossip she's learned from around the ship. Granted, this has helped him understand the crew a lot better from a different perspective, but this time was different. She didn't get up from the couch, but it was clear he had her attention.

"I have a question concerning the heist we did," she started, slightly lower in tone, a hint of uncertainty. Before Shepard could be relieved how the problem could be solved quickly, Kasumi instead asked "Do you think it's too late to grab back the Saren statue? It's low-quality material, sure, but it could still fool another criminal overlord."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," he answered honestly, before he could continue, Kasumi then replied:

"Yeah, someone else there probably already nabbed it. Shame. Could've made us free credits on the side, maybe enough for that precious space hamster I saw you eyeing back on the Citadel."

Shepard grinned slightly with a hint of bashfulness. "You noticed?"

Kasumi smiled. "No sane organic could deny as cute of a hamster as that one."

Shepard turned to bar and found two drinks laid out and ready. He turned back to her, both the intent to open her up on Miranda's behalf, and to bond with the crewmember. "Care for a drink?"

Kasumi seemed hesitant for a moment, looking down back at herself briefly. Then a miracle happened: she turned and got up from the couch. "Sure, but I'm mixing the drinks."

Shepard leaned on the counter as she walked passed him and to behind the counter. She grabbed the canister with the red liquid first before shaking it, one hand on the lid and the other on the bottom. "Thanks again for your help, by the way," she started. "I admit, I was worried you would be intimidated with a mission requiring a bit more... subtlety... than what you're used to."

He looked back up at her. Her face was shadowed by the hood; focusing on stirring one of the two containers. Impossible to get a read on her, but it was just best to keep on talking. "Think we'll run into any of the party members in the future?"

"Accidentally, maybe, but not on some revenge plot for crashing the party. Everyone was too busy with sticks up their asses talking about whose group was badder," Shepard saw another small grin from her, still no eye contact. "You didn't notice all the fancy pinky fingers sticking out when they spoke?"

It was Shepard's turn to have a grin from the thought of evil-doers acting no better than pompous elites with powdered wigs as mercs and mechs battled beneath them; metaphorically and literally. "You're okay with how the mission turned out?"

"Yep! Had quite the adventure and got a good model weapon out of it," she stated. She had switched to the blue drink to mix, but the answer was a quick and straightforward statement. No witty line, no humor, and only a bit of lightheartedness. Miranda was right, she was likely bothered still.

"Okay, Kasumi, big question time," Shepard started; Kasumi did not look up at all, but the grin from her previous rich mafia boss joke was gone at this point.

Best not to push it yet.

"Of all the artifacts in the vault-" her neutral face returned. "- which was your favorite?"

"Shep, you can't just dish out the loaded questions like that," her voice was back to jovial, and she was pouring the two drinks together, making a purple color and a thicker drink. "Might as well ask me to recite the best drama novel with a report, complete with pros and cons."

After a moment, Shepard guessed out loud: "David?"

"Definitely 'Top 5' for me in there, but it'd be a hassle to drag out without the equipment," she answered. She clearly already had plans for each artifact in there, at least early plans from mere scans. "My answer right now would be the quarian tablets. There's a chance those tablets could be as essential to the culture of the race as _Gilgamesh_ is to humans, and that makes it invaluable to the entire quarian fleet."

"But I'm guessing you wouldn't sell it?"

She had poured a shot for Shepard. "If it turns out to be a receipt for 'eezo,' I might for a high price, but if I'm right, that's worth a life-and-death favor, and only in form of a bluff." She finished pouring a shot for herself and was shaking the glass in a clockwise motion. "Historic value cannot be measured in credits alone."

The commander grabbed his glass and rose it up. "A toast... to history?" He asked, unsure, but his tone was playful rather than mockingly.

Kasumi chuckled lightly before raising her glass to his. "A toast to precious memories."

As they looked up to down their shots, Shepard shot his head back down and shook his head. Natural reflex of his to digest alcohol, but it let him look up. There, she was visible. Her face was much clearer as she looked up, face in the light as she downed the shot. Her face said it all: the pain of loss, and the shine in her eyes was present once more, brighter than usual. The glimmer of a risky mission was noticeable close up, no question, but this was from teary eyes, and it wasn't exactly from the drink.

But she played it off as such. She widened her arms and leaned on the counter, still looking up a tad. "My... that was a terrible drink," she frankly put.

"I'm sure five more of those _might_ make it okay," Shepard joked. "What do you call the drink?"

"Hmm..." she brought a hand up to think briefly on the failed purple mix. Kasumi then extended her arms as presenting a product to sell: "The Mix of Gilgamesh!"

"A bit too poetic for a bad drink, don't you think?" Shepared asked. Kasumi laughed again and lost her composure, she couldn't argue with that. "How about 'The 'Mesh'?"

Kasumi looked directly at Shepard with a wide smile. "That's a better name. At least for now." She walked back from around the counter, back towards the couch. "That was nice, Shep. Not used to being social for social's sake."

She got back into her fetal position, but looked as positive as she normally looked with the same glimmer in her eyes. "If you bring back different drinks, I wouldn't mind doing this again. We need to bring down the 'Mesh's walls for first place."


	2. A Toast to a Resolution

A Toast to a Resolution

The mission was, on datapad, a success, but it left him exhausted.

Horizon was a mess of emotions for Commander Shepard. Seeing colonists nabbed and disabled against their whim against an overpowering force was not a welcome reminder of Mindoir, and the reunion with former squadmate Ashley Williams was another punch to the gut. The two got intimate before their approach to Ilos two years prior, and they even shared a long-delayed and needed hug back on the colony, but the mission showed Shepard the current task was a different beast than tracking down Saren in the beauty of space.

The reality was that he was working with Cerberus, and it didn't hit him until his former lover refused to join him on those grounds. His goal was for the best of the galaxy, there was no question about that, but his current allegiance forced the two to admit that what they had could never be.

Physically, his facial scarring was recovering wonderfully without the need for special surgical equipment according to Doctor Chakwas, and the upgrades provided by Mordin Solus prevented problems with the seeker swarms. The collectors proved to be a capable force, but even a leader identifying itself as Harbinger using corrupted biotics and incineration tech, Shepard and his team prevailed and fought back. Mentally? The conclusion had left him a bit vulnerable, same with various members of the team, despite the victorious battle.

Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson had both asked the commander for favors concerning loose ends, and he offered to find time to take care of them while recruiting more for the team, but after his debrief with the Illusive Man and how defensive he was about his personal feelings, it was clear he needed closure himself. He needed a drink, but that had to wait.

While the Normandy was heading towards Haestrom, Shepard found himself in the elevator again from Deck 4 to Deck 2 after checking up on Grunt and Jack. Grunt's prototype shotgun seemed too cost-extensive to be worth the investment, but it could possibly help the krogan with his identity crisis by giving him a weapon widely used by the very battlemasters he tends to quote. Jack's modifications seemed invaluable in the hands of a talented biotic as her. Incredibly risky, no doubt, to Cerberus, but Jack was clearly on board to find out about her past more than to needlessly tear the ship apart mid-flight. As long as the two had something to fight, they should be relieved.

Shepard's friend Garrus was far more accepting of Shepard's fight against the Collectors than Ashley, and with the addition of Tali'Zorah next, he would have a third of his former squad on this suicide mission, but the commander couldn't hide it; having Ashley let two years of anger, stress, sadness, buildup, and emotion all at once after a rough mission was-

\- the elevator stopped prematurely.

The intercom in the elevator turned on with temporary static before a friendly voice blared out casually "Commander to Port Observation. Commander to Port Observation."

The intercom shut off before the doors opened up to Deck 3. Shepard shook his head in disapproval of the action. He knew EDI and Miranda were freaking out about the hack into the ship's system over something as small as intercom speakers being hacked, and he was hardly in the mood for games, as innocent and good-intended they were.

But he took the bait and proceeded to Port Observation.

The doors opened, but Kasumi was nowhere on the couch. He looked left towards her "room" side of the room and still found no thief. A non-subtle, loud "Ahem" was heard to his right to find Kasumi with bottles rather than the usual travel-friendly cylinders sitting behind her. He recognized two of them as ones he picked up on the Citadel as well as one thrown into the mix. Imported asari honey mead as well as a unique salarian cocktail titled "Uplifting Betau" were the two he recognized, and the third seemed to be a bottle with "Dassai" labeled on the side.

Back up to Kasumi, She had a serious look on her face, looking directly at the commander with the intention to complete a mission. Not of a heist or of combat, however. What was-?

"Shep, you need a drink." It was not a playful nor a request; it was a demand. A subordinate demanding a superior officer of an action would be punishable on any other military vessel, but Shepard was neither a harsh superior to his squad, nor was he in the mood to discipline even if it called for it.

Kasumi popped open the cork to what looked like the bottle she brought in after pulling with a considerable amount of force. She looked back up from the bottle to see Shepard in the same spot as before. "I'm serious, Shep. Don't make me say please," she said with a slightly more concerning tone, stretching out the beginning of her second sentence.

He walked on over to the bar as Kasumi poured him a drink in the shot glass. She was fully aware of what troubled him. Was he this obvious? No, he thought, Kasumi was always as sharp as Kelly Chambers and Miranda Lawson, but if most others noticed his recent mood, it could affect crew morale.

She poured herself a glass as well. "It's no secret this is to try to cheer you up," she started directly, taking in the sake via smell before taking a sip. "But you did pick us up some beverages, and we were due for another social event. So..." she raised her glass, Shepard reflexively met the glass with his own, despite not being all quite there yet mentally. "Here's to a steady recovery,"

Kasumi raised the glass to drink, but she froze and looked down. Shepard was slow to match, and got the bartender offended. "A free drink does not come every so often, Commander. Unless it's a racist batarian on Omega trying to poison you." She lowered her glass back onto the to meet his gaze once more after he didn't react. "I'm not drinking alone, Shep."

He returned with a half-grin with a heavy heart and met the sake with a clink. He downed the drink quickly, and Ms. Goto matched afterwards. The brightness in her eyes from before had returned, and it snapped Shepard's memory back. Kasumi was still a bit shaken from her mission to Bekenstein, and he needed to get her mind on the mission.

"Sorry about that," Shepard apologized. "Rough mission."

"No need to apologize, Shep. You're allowed a break every now and then." It seemed that it was Kasumi's turn to take charge of the conversation. She was certainly more stable compared to Shepard at the moment, but she hadn't had to connect to someone like this in quite awhile. She poured a second serving for the two of them, only pouring three-quarters of the glass this time, just before reaching for the Uplifting Betau. "You helped me with a favor, now let me to at least attempt to help you out."

After she had mixed the two drinks, Shepard drank the second glass. He didn't down it, but it was a casual sip of the drink. Not as strong as the previous session's 'Mesh, but it certainly tasted like it didn't come from dirt. "Thanks, Kasumi. I appreciate it."

Kasumi smiled and poured herself another glass, giving herself the same mix as she gave Shepard. She had matched his casual drinking and seemed to be ready for the long game. As bartender, it was her turn to investigate. "So... Shep... tell me about yourself."

* * *

A few glasses later, and the two were far more social than the tense start. Not tipsy, but the destination was not too far. The two were bearing smiles from nostalgic times.

"Mindoir doesn't sound too fun for someone like me," Kasumi said. She had an empty glass in front of her and half a bottle of Dassai next to it. "But it does sound like the friendliest corner of the galaxy."

"Nothing of value there, only equipment for agriculture, some for communication," Shepard started, waving his hand in a dismissing manner. His glass was half-finished before he raised it to finish the rest. The listener poured herself another glass as he finished his own. "Our form of treasure would be someone bringing in a new vid."

Kasumi gave a light chuckle, sounding more like an heavy exhale more than laughter before raising her glass. "Sounds like outskirt life in countries like China back on Earth. Not up to date on the tech tree, but peaceful with its customs." She paused before considering her next question; her eyes visibly dashed left to right as she controlled herself from pushing too far with the probing. But... she was curious, so she asked something less risky. "Any cute guys or girls in your childhood?" No answer immediately, but not from pain, just thought. It was a safe question. "Maybe the rare alien? ... robot? I don't judge." Quickly slapping on that last sentence for clarification.

"A crush here or there, maybe," Shepard started, moving around his empty glass expressing his language much more openly. "Farm girls start looking the same after awhile. Cute, but didn't stand out too much. Not for me, anyway."

Kasumi took the gamble. "Was that why Ashley was special to you?" A small pause lingered in the room. Not an awkward moment; just time to let Shepard come up with a response. "Same charm as the farm life, but with an outside perspective?"

"... it's hard to explain..." Not the whole answer she wanted, but- "... but yeah, she was special." His glass was steady on the counter; she did the natural act and poured the glass to full with the honey mead, letting him continue with the flow. This was vulnerable territory for the two of them, but Kasumi knew this was a form of venting. "I wish I could say it felt good to see her again, but... well... she has moved on."

Goto looked down, sharing the pain of loss with her commander. She raised her glass for another toast. "Best wishes to Ashley Williams." It was much more casual, less honorable than the usual toast as Shepard met her glass with his, but only the lower portion with a light clink.

Before they drank, Kasumi added in: "Y'know what I predict? She'll come around." That got his attention before she continued: "It was likely emotional for her too. Two years of moving on, only to be told the scars are back with extra baggage is hard to take in." Shepard chugged the glass, and Kasumi did the same. They went through a decent portion of each of the drinks, but enough for the host to store them back onto the shelves behind her. She had her back turned to him, figuring out where to put each bottle, but she did a half turn back to Shepard. "Or she was just rustled she got beat by a few bugs. You can rub that in next time if you two ever reconnect."

Shepard bashfully looked down and shook his head with a big grin. The thought of the cautious but proud Alliance soldier fumbling to defend herself on how she lost to "a few bugs" was quite entertaining. It still ached to know they will likely never be as close as before, but the optimism from Kasumi brought his mood up. He looked back up to see Kasumi finishing putting away the last bottle. "Thanks, Kasumi. I mean it."

It was her turn to be bashful. Just as she was turning back to face him, she withdrew and looked back at the shelves with crossed arms and one hand gripping her own chin, as in deep thought, like back at the Vault's entrance at Bekenstein, but they both knew she wasn't fooling him. "Well, to be honest, Shep, you're helping me too. It's not often I get to gossip and share dri- oh!" She exclaimed, a bit sudden and nearly surprised Shepard as she turned back around, giving him her undivided attention. "The mixes! Which was the best, and what will it be called?"

She had deflected the personal bonding like before, but he got further this time, and he had to admit, this was quite fun. Besides, none of the other members of the ship besides Chakwas would bother sharing and experimenting with drinks. It was starting to turn less of a mission to help a teammate, and more of a healing session. A welcome one at that: more pleasure, less needles and bandages.

"The cocktail was fine enough on its own, to be honest," he answered truthfully.

"Ouch, is that a jab at my mixing? I'm hurt," her playful mocking tone got to him a bit; reminded him of Garrus's jabs, but it came from a sweet, caring woman rather than an ugly turian.

"Nope, it just means more drinks are needed. We will be headed to Ilium eventually."

"Oooo, that would be a goldmine of drinks," her mind wondered again. "And expensive goodies."

"Kasumi-" he stretched out the second and third syllables of her name teasingly, getting a giggle out of her.

"Oh fine. Just for you, I'll limit to what I can fit into my pockets, but only if you keep on the lookout for more drinks."

"Deal."

He got up, but before he left, Kasumi spoke up before he left the room. "Wait, Shep... so we're sticking with the drink named after a salarian new year?"

"Why not? It was sweet, and it wasn't poison. Both are big positives at this point."

Kasumi grabbed a towel from behind the bar and began detailing the glasses that were quickly rinsed in the sink from behind. "I'll mix us up something better for next time. Get me something stronger so I can make something to compete with the 'Mesh!"

He nodded with a half-smile and walked out. The door hissed closed and Kasumi found herself still smiling as she dried off the glass, focusing on getting the rims at the bottom. The Commander wasn't just an invincible icon the brass, media, or even the higher ups saw him as. Despite being labeled the Butcher of Torfan, the first human spectre, the Hero of the Citadel and the Council, and now the Defender of Horizon, he still was a person, complete with weak points, care, and humility. It helped he had gorgeous eyes, sure, but it was reassuring to see Shepard living up to her expectations.

Besides, if she was going to continue with this suicide mission, she needed to know who she was going into hell with, and she knew he intends to do the same with her. Both benefited from these times of bonding.

Still holding the clean cup, she raised it up to the light, both to get a clear look at her work, and to mock a toast to herself. A resolution: "Here's to a salarian new year," she muttered quietly to herself. "And moving on."


	3. A Toast to a Realization

A Toast to a Realization

The Normandy had survived the obvious trap, but the Intel gained shook the crew to their core.

Soldiers, engineers, specialists, and doctors alike all buzzed in personal whispers and vocal debates, varied in opinions on the Illusive Man's deception of the distress signal. Some felt used and were considering taking it up with the Commander or his XO, but others understood the risk and attempted to control the wildfire on board the Normandy, reminding them of the risks fighting an unknown enemy.

However, their organization's methods and goals were not the main topic, not within Port Observation at least. The portion of the crew on break spent their downtime unwinding with a stiff drink or ten at and around the bar. The section of the ship was completely occupied by what felt like half of the ship and a galaxy's worth of worries, analyses, and perspectives on one major discovery: the Collectors were originally the center of galactic power and influence, the Protheans. The legendary race accredited for the creation of the Citadel and its beacon of unity, the Mass Relays and the "mass effect" to allow FTL travel, and the treasured artifacts with the secrets of their technology had fallen to no better than husks who can hold a rifle and pull the trigger.

If it weren't for the cramped space and noise, Kasumi would have enjoyed diving into the deep end with some of the topics brought up, all about their enemy. The formerly-faceless servants of the sentient gods from deep space now had an identity, past, and even personality. The staff brainstormed throughout their entire breaks with drinks in hand.

"Will the human husks evolve to use weapons as well over time?" Rolstom brought up while holding a glass of weak Thessian Temple, appearing to be water if it weren't for the slight carbonation on the glass. Kasumi's eyes darted to the group next to him:

"Is the technology even theirs or a predecessors?" Daniels sipped a neon-orange drink through a straw while Donnelly and Patel expanded on the question, both downing traditional scotch and feeling flushed in the face. The thief slightly grinned with amusement as Donnelly's accent almost seemed to go away with each passing glass he drank, but the next topic came to fruition:

"Are these Collectors former significant members of society that resisted to the end, or do they consist of whomever the Reapers took?" Matthews had water, but he and Rolstom bounced back and forth with more questions than answers, elaborating on Prothean status before their demise, but a stranger brought up:

"Have these Collectors been around for 50,000 years, or do they reproduce/create new copies? Cloning? Do husks expire?" She couldn't recognize the crewman holding the red half of the 'Mesh, but they brought up an interesting point. Did the Reapers create more Collectors, or do the possessed drones create more? The question brought upon the room with a new nexus of topics once more, but Kasumi's mind kept trailing on the identity of the crewman. Were they their shuttle pilot? What was their name, again? She felt guilty for not knowing, but the next public study was already in session:

"Since they are more organized than the mindless human husks, do they still possess intelligence but no self-control?" A marine, also with water, was caught between the pilot and Daniels, both with different viewpoints than him, but all three having different frameworks for their ideas. No self-control meant no intelligence: think of feral animals. Higher intelligence was there but the drones were stripped of emotions: think of the reports on Saren. Intelligence and control were there, but they have been isolated and raised in a strict manner: think of a caste system under the influence of Harbinger. The last sounded silly to the hooded figure, but she was aware an idea had to be "proven" to be an irrational train of thought before being called as such, but then there was:

"Would you mind pouring me another drink, darling?"

Kasumi blinked out of her daze and looked down at the drunken security guard and the slightly-buzzed veteran in front of her. She had involuntarily been selected as the bartender for this spontaneous meeting when Zaeed Massani first came in and asked for "something dark and heavy," but before the two could even talk amongst themselves, the bar began to fill up and drinks began to go around in a desperate rush. The old mercenary still sat on the bar stool in silence, but he was joined by a bewildered guard drinking more than he can handle.

"Come again?" Kasumi asked, still returning from her mindset of brainstorming.

When she looked to Zaeed, he shook his head and gestured to the guard with his thumb. She turned to Burt who had bloodshot eyes, horrible breath, and not enough manners to keep his eyes off her figure. He pointed at his shot glass and repeated: "Another 'Mesh, please."

As constrained and formally as possible, she gave Burt another shot of the bright purple mix. She felt awkward in this environment, surrounded by crowds without being hidden and, in fact, being eyed by a member of security. Even if Burt's intention was not to arrest or stop her from a heist, a drunk's gaze on what he perceived as more of an object than a person only added to the atmosphere demanding a quick exit.

But she had manners as well; her downfall for being raised properly and being around good people long enough. She had to wait for a proper moment to exit. The thief was, after all, the bartender at rush hour for a bundle of stressed military personnel.

"Thanks, you're too kind." Burt sounded forced, even scripted, when he spoke. Either the 'Mesh was speaking for him, or he had this scenario planned for awhile.

Kasumi gave a slight nod and attempted to display her lack of interest overtly to the guard: crossing her arms, not making direct eye contact, and short responses. He clearly liked her in one way or another, that much was obvious, but the activities of the Normandy's crew were far more interesting than a shy guard with wandering eyes. She looked to the right at the forming small line for the entertainment center near the bar. That addition was feared to be a complete waste of credits and space when the average number of times used per cycle ranged from "Zero to looked at;" but now the virtual reality system was finally achieving its primary purpose and helping stressed workers unwind. She raised her hand and gripped her own chin in thought, wondering why some people would choose to sit in what appeared to be a claustrophobic VR simulator when the combat footage revealed the endless pods the Collectors planned on storing their victims. Guess that is what makes it an efficient machine, she guessed, before she noticed Burt awkwardly waving a hand for her attention once more.

"K-Kasumi, was it?" he slurred out. His own voice almost drowned in the vibrant yet fearful atmosphere, but her selective hearing caught it. The skill was invaluable when relying on senses over technology during a risky mission, but ate at her conscience of being unable to ignore someone out of blissful ignorance, especially if said-person resembled more of a young adult mentally rather than a trained military Cerberus soldier.

"You need to finish your current glass before asking for another," she stated, crossing her arms again and leaning against the wall on her left with her shoulder. Careful to look at his glass and not at him, her indirect ques of "not interesting" flew over his head.

"Listen, the mission is getting stressful," Burt started. "And I'm s-sure you're shaken up, too."

Oh boy. Kasumi was aware her own resting look emitted a small, natural smile, so she did everything she could to turn her resting state into a flat line or even a frown at this point. It was hopeful thinking that all the signs of disinterest would be enough to stop the momentum of the drunkard. He was, however, right about the last mission messing with her normal train of thought, but he didn't need to know that. "I'm fine, actually, but thanks for wondering."

Sadly, the last gesture of thanks was the one positive sign of hopeful thinking for the guard to continue. "Either way, I was wondering... s-since we're a couple hours away from the relay-"

"Ah, hell," Zaeed loudly interrupted as he looked down at his omni-tool, slamming his own empty cup face-down on the bar to emphasize his annoyance. The two turned to him before he looked up to their bartender. "You deactivate your messenger?" Kasumi perked an eyebrow, still leaning on the wall, but she quickly picked up on what he was trying to do. "Solus needs a word with you. Shepard found some upgrades on the last mission."

She didn't need to see the wink he gave her with his bad eye, but her expression returned to normal as the mercenary gave her an exit. Zaeed took her place as bartender as she left her position, activated her cloak, and gleefully left the overcrowded room. Burt's mixed expression of betrayal and sadness towards them did leave her with a tinge of guilt, but it was much better than him suggesting to do anything in a vulnerable, emotional state. Zaeed reassured the guard: "Trust me, kid, you'll thank me later," indirectly telling Kasumi that the new bartender was on the same page she was. She made a mental note to check with her old contacts to see if fixing "Jessie" was a possibility as a thank you for being a rescuer. Just before the door hissed closed behind her, Zaeed shouted out about trying out a "human-friendly burukh" to the room of makeshift scholars.

But for now, she was free to eavesdrop on everyone else. If she couldn't steal priceless relics or great works of art, she could still fulfill her curiosity. Reaching for her pockets, she reached for hearing aids and a special visor that gave her a personal HUD underneath her cloaking. This allowed her to access her omni-tool and activate her suit's features and tools without the bright orange glow giving away her location. The best tools possible to gather the juiciest gossip in the galaxy, at least during downtime.

The cloaked figure walked silently passed Thane's quarters and elevator. She was smart enough not to sneak up and monitor an assassin who found more vulnerabilities in C-Sec's security than she did (though no one had to know that). But he was not a scary figure, quite the opposite. He was a very kind father with the mind of an ethical philosopher and the body and talent of an Olympic athlete, even on a bad day. The thief smirked to herself when she imagined a slim human from the Enlightenment Era posing for a family photo with turian action vid star Valeana Capidros holding a baby Thane in their arms.

As she passed the empty crew quarters, the aids picked up chatter from the other observation room. No room was completely soundproof: the devices resting in her ears just had to be adjusted to the correct settings to compensate for the frequency of the noise and the density of the material between her and the noise. However, she sighed in disappointment as it sounded like the other half of the ship was discussing the same topics as the uncomfortable space she just left. She recognized the voices of Chakwas, Mordin, and Jacob before turning heel and heading towards the mess hall.

The smirk returned at her mind doing its own brainstorming. The mysteries of the Collectors were a shelved topic for her, but she always had room for eye-candy scenarios. Observing certain built and strong male crewmembers such as Jacob working out during downtime never got old if gossip was boring, so now she was wondering if that caring assassin wouldn't mind getting in a shirtless biotics sparring match with Mr. Taylor. A heavy crate here. Some ordinance there. Maybe some wrestling maneuvers if their minds were strained. She didn't even know if she found drell physically attractive or not, but that was definitely a scenario to find the solution to that debate.

But for now, she was nearing one of her favorite corners of the entire ship: Miranda's office. Although the Illusive Man's main connection to the _Normandy_ was good at keeping quiet while working, the potential of something big happening in here was massive: Miranda and Jack getting into a huge fight, the operative audibly sighing at what could either be Garrus's latest calibration report or another Cerberus cell going rogue, or the perfect, cold, unemotional cheerleader opening up to Kasumi's new drinking partner. He did have that talent.

A master infiltrator had to be aware of their peripherals at all times, but it never hurts to double check and make sure no one accidentally bumped into her before advancing on the office that may as well have a giant "X" for Kasumi to investigate. A quick scan brought up all life forms on the deck being in both observation ports, Thane's room, Garrus's haven, and the two blips in the office in front of her. Two people in Miranda's office, with the doctor, scientist, and armorer all occupied elsewhere meant that the other was most definitely Commander Shepard. Which usually meant top secret, either mission details or personal history. Which meant the settings on her listening buds could not have been adjusted any meant that tiny, quiet conscience in the back of her mind that tried to warn her of potential punishment for eavesdropping on military, confidential matters were-

"-The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes."

This was why that voice stayed quiet.

It's no secret Miranda never opened up with anyone, and it was little known that she opened up a bit to Shepard occasionally. But this was different. Kasumi gave one more glance around her from muscle memory, scanning one more time for people, before giving her undivided attention to what was brewing in her office.

"I can't admire you for who and what you are? You give your father too much credit. Yeah, he gave you gifts, but you can be proud of what you've done with them."

Oh, that colonial boy scout. He always knew what to say without a script or a psychology report. The grinning spy felt like a victory was achieved when Miranda's reply was genuine, soft, and shocked.

"Oh. Thank you."

It was at times like these when Kasumi appreciated that the only hope for the galaxy against the reapers was a farm boy trained to patrol the Walls of Uruk but with the will to construct the Bridge of Gibraltar. Someone prepared physically and mentally to do the dirty deed; someone with the mind for the future once the work was done. Her admiration for the commander put a warmth in her stomach-

"-And perhaps I wouldn't mind if you admired my body."

-that was extinguished with an icy tidal wave, and anxiety for an answer overwhelmed and filled the void. Her grin dropped and she nearly pressed against the door, triple and quadruple-checking the deck to make sure no one interrupted what may as well been the climactic finale to a story. But the one snooping in on private matters no longer had the objective reasoning of "for curiosity."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way." Kasumi let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she had waiting to vent. "We need to stay professional... keep our focus..."

It was rare to hear Shepard struggling to speak, but she knew it was also rare for him to deal with rejection. Being in the Alliance for nearly half of his life meant that only the "Colony Crushes," or at least that's what Kasumi called them, and Ashley Williams were his only experiences in intimacy. He spent very little time being selfish. Even on board a Cerberus vessel with no strict regulations being enforced so long as the main goal was in sight, Shepard was the Commander first and a man who enjoyed a drink and discussion last.

Tragic, really. She knew he would have loved talking with the crew about their latest discovery. But no, she thought to herself as a frown of realization hit her, he had to do his rounds: Deck 2 with ship and pilot status, equipment inspection, then resource management, Deck 3 with medical personal and crew health updates, forward battery check-up, and ration reports, Deck 4 with engine and shielding readouts, cargo inventory, and unstable passenger status, and on top of that, Deck 1 with messages, sleep, and if time permits, pets and models could be attended to for a few minutes.

Her curiosity of the two died down as she rubbed her forehead, still under the guise of the cloak. Ever since their last drinking session, it was abundantly clear that this ruthless, invincible, Butcher of Torfan was a few bad experiences away from breaking down, and if the raid on the Collectors is as risky as everyone said it is, he needed to be relaxed. Sure, the goal was to be clear and focused on the mission, but there is so much even a legend can take before their world starts crumbling around them. Besides, Shepard was a friend, even a temporary crush (and she was self-aware enough that it wasn't not a crush), but Kasumi knew that some quiet conscience in the back of her mind grew more assertive. It wasn't about tapping into messages or spying on couples; it was about being there for a person who needed help once more.

She made her way to the AI Core to take the emergency ladder down to Deck 4, but was typing onto her omni-tool. He was busy with his rounds for now, so she would kill time by doing what she enjoyed doing, maybe chat with Tali and keep her company, but she knew a request for a one-on-one marked high on Shepard's priority list.

* * *

The meeting was awkward towards the end, but time will heal the wound.

It wasn't the first time he had to reject a move someone made on him, but it was the first time it threw him off guard. Reasons compounded one after the other to go for it, but opposition counter-argued with mountains of evidence that it would be a terrible idea; moreover, in the mess of being caught in the spotlight by the genetically-perfect woman, the arguments for either choice didn't resonate with him.

Miranda sounded like she was suggesting a fling. Relieve stress. It should have been a perfect opportunity. Both were workaholics, strained, tired, and needed to vent, especially after the last mission, and here was this perfect model of a woman whose figure would have made artists of the most nihilistic and morbid nature blush possibly offering a moment of release. Everyone, and he knew everyone, back in his early days of the Alliance would have scolded him, tormented him, even beat him for passing on an opportunity. Socially, Shepard made a brain-dead decision, but as he left the office and the hiss behind him echoed in the mess hall, he didn't regret it, but not for the reasons he thought he would have.

The Alliance training and caution in him should have been the reasons for his choice: the possibility of her using him as a trap to bug him, make him vulnerable, offer sex as a step to get him to open up about his personal life for her to record and send an updated psych evaluation to the Illusive Man, but the military thought process was silenced by personal experiences, not fraternization protocol nor suspicion, but by his roots. By his upbringings. By his parents.

His mind quickly deduced the situation as a manner of honesty. During his earliest years of adolescence, his father bluntly taught him to be loyal and keep one person in mind at a time, whether it was a significant other or a one-nighter; never to juggle between two from anyone in either category. His mother threatened to ship him off to Terminus space as punishment if he even thought about choosing quick pleasure over a lasting relationship, summarized to "think with your head up there, not down there." But why were these reasons his primary ones?

Ashley made it clear what they had was gone, and after days of the confrontation, Shepard acknowledged the results and got rid of the portrait he had of her from his personal desk, so no rules broken with that action. Before that, he was clear and upfront to Liara that he was not interested. Bright girl, full of hope and with a passion for the Protheans and lost secrets, but too inexperienced in the real world to be his type, so again, no worries about pissing off the parents.

So then what, or who, was it that made him reject his stunning XO? She was beautiful, no doubt about it. Even before she switched to the black operative armor he requested and when she left little to the imagination, her face hovering over his was still his first memory of waking up from his death. Most would consider that a moment of "seeing an angel" and develop a deep connection. And she was a hard worker at that, maybe not the best in choosing factions, but she believed in the same goal that the majority of the galaxy tried to ignore. His father would give the double thumbs up, and his mother would approve of her work ethic, minus the human terrorist association part, so by that logic, direct disapproval by parents was not the issue.

Did he have eyes for another? That would make the most sense if everything prior was on point. His first thought of a possibility was his Chief Engineer, Tali'Zorah. Kelly Chambers had been upfront about the quarian's interest in him, and he had to admit, even under a suit, she was physically attractive, and she was a shining beacon of what the best the Migrant Fleet had to offer to the galaxy. But any first thoughts he had about a relationship with her were quickly pushed out as soon as Chambers told him: she was still young. Mature for her age? Oh, most definitely, as much wisdom and experience as an admiral, and she deserved more respect than the ones at her trial, but her interest in him sounded like a crush on a role model more than actual interest. Not to mention her potential to be a future admiral, the sad reality of her population being too small to afford many interspecies relationships, and the lack of real physical contact without the risk of her being too sick to work was too much of an effort to try out a hunch. That's what Shepard deduced then, and it's the sad reality he's kept since. It was for the best. For both of them.

As he made it to the elevator, his mind tried to pinpoint someone else to prove why he rejected Miranda. Was it Kelly? No, she was too "university" like Liara for him. Samara? No, she was as stunning as Miranda, but more machine with the Code she had to-

-His omni-tool alerting him of a personal message threw out his personal matters out the airlock as his attention returned to the reality around him. He expected it to be an update from the Illusive Man or perhaps from EDI concerning potential damage to the crew or ship, but it was from his drinking buddy.

 _Hey Shep, got a minute? I made a new cocktail that will surely be our new epic for the ages, but the bar is too crowded right now for comfort. Got any ideas?_

 _\- Kasumi_

He tapped the elevator for Deck 1 and opened up his personal com. "Kasumi? This is Shepard. I'm in my cabin if you're free to talk."

"Definitely! Just give me a moment."

He pondered about what Kasumi wanted to discuss exactly. She didn't personally attend the last mission with him, but it's possible she read the reports, watched the feed, and had opinions and topics to throw out but didn't want to be in a crowded room of a dozen-plus people. She was an introvert in crowds, extrovert in small company. It made sense.

The elevator hissed open and he made his way to his desk. Taking a moment to let the neon-blue lighting of the aquarium soothe his mind a bit, he fetched the wine glasses from storage and set them on the desk before diverting his attention to the half-dozen datapads resting in between his personal terminal and binders. As he waited for her, he dove right back to work with heavy, exhaustive eyes trying to focus on the data in front of him.


End file.
